


The Bridge (Ianto Solo)

by Feral_Female



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Aliens, Anal Sex, Gay Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Taken By The Rift, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-18 18:28:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10622622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feral_Female/pseuds/Feral_Female
Summary: Every now and again we all need an evening spent on some “Me” time. Ianto Jones quite enjoys a night spent in the balcony with a buttery snack and a classic movie, being a bit of a fan of eclectic and often overlooked independent films. What happens on such a night in a darkened old theater after a rift spike ends up being anything but calming for our favorite factotum/newest Torchwood agent. It turns into a matter of life or death.This story picks up a few weeks after “The Ones Who Fall Through”. I’ll be posting on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.This story – as all of mine do - takes place mainly before CoE although you might pick up some nods to things that occurred in the first three episodes of “Children of Earth”. There may also be a few small liberties taken from time to time with references to the show and its timelines.





	1. The Bridge - Chapter One - First Pulse

**The Bridge (Ianto Solo)**

**Chapter One**

**First Pulse**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

Despite what matronly aunts may say, there is nothing wrong with sitting in the cinema by yourself. I kept telling myself that as the lights lowered and a short grainy film entreating movie-goers not to use their mobile during the performance played on the old screen. Truthfully, I’d enjoy the movie – an independent film about the trials of a Turkish slave and his Roman owner – far more by myself.

 Jack could be a bit of a pain-in-the-arse when forced to watch films he didn’t like. I loved the man but his taste in films and mine varied tremendously. I’d thought “Kiss Me, Calvus” sounded good. It was a gay romance, as the slave and owner were reputed to fall into a rather heated affair and engage in lots of onscreen sex. Oddly enough, even that caveat hadn’t been enough to lure Jack into coming with me. He’d opted to go visit his grandson.

Given how little he saw the lad, I’d told him that was a good use of his time and I’d set off for the Montwood Cinema, a rather small and off-the-beaten-track theater that was known for showing avant-garde and innovative LGBTQ films. Such as this one I was settling in to see.

There was one other patron here, seated behind me by the doors. The thought that he may be here to _enjoy_ the sex scenes made me glance back at him with worry. The first sounds of someone tugging one off and I was leaving, hot Roman sex or not. I had standards. Being the lover of Jack Harkness may be lowering them, but I still had some. That thought made me smile.

I opened the box of Maltsers I’d purchased, leaned back into the ratty seat, and placed my ankle on my knee. The man by the door coughed. There were no trailers at the Montwood. The films shown here were too frugally made to warrant the cost of a trailer.

I settled back and popped a malted milk ball into my mouth as the film started. Being rather interested in Roman military history, I found the film to be a little lacking in correctness. What it lacked in historical accuracy it more than made up for with longing looks, secret touches, and a snogging scene that made my eyeballs sweat. Romance flourished. I kept a keen ear open in case my fellow movie-goer decided to unzip and whip it out. It was hard to hear over the whispered endearments between Clavus, the Roman nobleman, and his Turkish slave, Adem, but nothing depraved seemed to be occurring behind me.

After eating the last of my malted milk balls, I took a sip of soda, stretched my legs, and startled slightly when the rift activity locater on my phone sounded off.

“Oi! No mobiles!”

“Sorry!” I shouted as I dug into the pocket of my jacket. I removed my phone then slipped from my seat. Jogging out of the theater, I studied the glowing red pulse carefully, astonished to see that it seemed to be centered exactly where I stood. I paused in the run-down lobby, the smell of burnt popcorn strong here, and made a complete circle. There was nothing to see. No Weevils or Roman soldiers behind the counter handing out boxes of candy. No squicky, globby aliens oozing out of the walls. Nothing. How odd. Refreshing but odd.

A call rang through. I knew right off who it would be. “Hello, Jack,” I said while prowling the lobby. I cracked open the door to theater two. No one in there was screaming. Someone did shout about the door being opened though.

“Ianto, we have you right in the midst of a hot rift spike.”

“Yes, I’m seeing that as well but there’s nothing out of the ordinary here.” I trotted to theater three, peeked into the darkness and heard nothing but the soundtrack of the film. Something about opera if I had to guess. I let that door drift shut. Someone coughed. I threw a fast glance at the candy counter. Just the pimply-faced lad who had sold me my soda and malted milk balls. He seemed human enough.

“So, you don’t need backup?”

“No, I don’t think so. Just go back to playing with Steven.”

“That visit didn’t go well. I’m at the Hub now with Owen.”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that. I guess I’ll go back and finish the movie.” I said it loud enough so that the teenager behind the counter would hear me. He yawned and returned to what must be a storage room. The lobby was empty again save for me.

“Okay, I’ll see you at home.”

“Love you,” I chanced. We’d never spoken those words over the phone. I wasn’t sure he’d reciprocate, especially with Owen within earshot.

“Love you too. See you in a couple hours.”

I lowered the phone, beaming like a complete idiot. “He said he loved me over the phone,” I told the empty lobby.

“Good for you,” the teenager called from the storage room. Heat raced up my cheeks. I went back to the theater and slipped through the doors as secretively as I could.

“Sorry for the disturbances,” I whispered to the man seated by the door. Only he wasn’t there any longer. I stared at his empty seat for a moment and then looked out over the small theater. There were perhaps thirty seats and all of them were empty. I looked back at the place where the man had been. I made my way to my seat on the left. I hadn’t seen the man pass through the lobby. And if he had left via the fire exit I’d assume an alarm would have gone off. “Curiouser and curiouser,” I mumbled as I tried to get back into the movie.

The Roman and the Turk were enjoying themselves. After the sex scene ended – I had paid good money after all so why leave before the hot stuff concluded - I got to my feet, my mind unwilling to let the mystery of the missing man go. I followed the aisle down to the fire exit and gave the door a shove. The fire alarm began to ring.

“Shit.” Knowing the calls to emergency responders would go out I raced to the lobby, nearly barreling into the pimply teenager running to the theater with a fire extinguisher in his hands. “Sorry! Sorry! That was me. Thought I’d slip out for a smoke.”

“Christ Mister,” the teen snarled. “Thought the place was on fire.”

“Sorry,” I said again and fell into step with the disgruntled usher/ticket taker. “Is there any other exit out of that theater beside the fire exit?”

“No,” the kid snapped at me. “And next time you want a fag use the front doors. Now I have to call everyone and tell them some nob set off the alarms.”

Off he stalked, greatly upset about making phone calls. Feeling it was best if I removed myself from the lobby, I went outside. It was cold and damp, my breath fogging in front of me as I made a full loop of the Montwood Cinema, looking for any hidden exits. I found none.

“So where did he go?” I asked the chilly Cardiff night.

 

**To be continued…**

 


	2. The Bridge - Chapter Two - Owner of an Itchy Mind

**The Bridge (Ianto Solo)**

**Chapter Two**

**Owner of an Itchy Mind**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

“So, you’re saying you think something odd happened to the man because he wasn’t there when you returned?”

I nodded at Jack as I reentered the bedroom after brushing my teeth for bed. He was spread out on top of the covers, naked as the day he’d been born, one leg bent at the knee, the other stretched out, his hands locked behind his head. My mind leaped around a bit trying to recall what it was I was going to say in response to his query.

“Ianto?” he called. My sight flew from his semi-erect prick to his face. “You’re so easily distracted. Flash a little cock and you’re lost. You think maybe that’s what happened at the movies? You were so into the sex scenes that the man slipped out while you were engrossed?”

“No, I do _not_ think that’s what happened,” I snipped as I pulled the shirt off that I’d been wearing to the movies. “I’m actually offended that you think I’m so easily distracted by the sight of a cock that I’d miss an entire human being leaving the room.”

“Oh, so it’s just _my_ cock that makes you so scattered?” He waggled an eyebrow.

“Pompous ass,” I mumbled then tugged my jeans down, stepped out of them, and tossed them into the hamper. Jack chuckled then shifted around on the bed.

“I’ll take your lack of a well-worded reply to mean yes. Ah, it does my shriveled ego good to know that even though we’ve now said the words you’re still hot to trot for my dick.”

“Shriveled ego? Please.” I threw back the covers on my side. Mr. Narcissism continued to lay on the covers with his now hard dick jutting up into the air. Christ, the man sprang to attention faster than any other man…well, not that I’d ever _been_ with any other man but I’ve seen porn online. I know things. “Can you get up so I can get under the covers, or is the weight of your head keeping you from moving?”

Jack snorted before patting the bed beside him. “You can lay on top after you take off your underwear and grab the lube.”

 _Grab the lube_. Should those three words send all the blood in my body to my groin as they do? Probably not but there it was just the same.

“Jack,” I argued while peeling off my briefs. “If the man was there and then he wasn’t don’t you think we should consider it? Maybe the rift swallowed him up. It’s happened before, you know.”

 “I’m aware of that, thank you, Ianto.” He caught the lube with ease. “I’m not sure that we need to dive into a full-blown investigation because you lost sight of one man.”

“Can I look into it further alone?”

“Yes, feel free. And if you discover a link then let me know. Come here now and let me love you.”

That was an easy request to fill. I’d not yet found a way to turn the man down when he wanted to love me. There wasn’t a way to _not_ fall into his arms when he opened them to me. I spread myself over him, my leg between his, our cocks bumping, sending shudders through both of us. His mouth was hot and wet on my skin as he rolled us over, pinning me under him. I locked my legs around him, encouraging him to enter me by rolling my hips against him.

He responded by hiking himself up, kissing me deeply, and then slowly pushing his slick cock deeply into me. Conversation about movies, disappearing men, and rift spikes ceased for the rest of the night as murmured demands to go faster and deeper followed by contented sighs took their place. Waking up under him – despite the difficulty in breathing his weight caused – I enjoyed the press of him for a moment or two and then wiggled free. Jack grumbled something, gathered the blanket, and rolled himself up in it. I padded off to get the coffee going and so another day began.

Breakfast rolled into lunch. The Hub was quiet which gave us all time to piddle about doing our own things. I spent some time after the mid-day meal in the conference room, hunkered over all the reports I could get my hands on about rift disappearances. Gwen had looked into this very thing not that long ago, and her findings were still available. They’d been gone over with a very heavy hand though. About an hour into the rooting around I grabbed the files - blacked out pages fluttering in the wind - and stalked into Jack’s office without knocking.

“You remind me one of my old boyfriend’s when you charge into my office like that. He did the same thing all the time.” I stopped in front of his desk and gave him a dour look. “Although I was actually thinking of his brother, not the younger twins, but his older brother Benton. Benton used to herd Luvian cattle and wore spurs. Even to bed. Damn, those things really left marks.” I shook the files at his handsome face. “He used to like to wiggle things under my nose too but generally it wasn’t a musty old file. Are you going to talk or should I just keep going? I like the sound of my own voice so I’d be more than willing to keep filling the air waves with--”

“Ninety-eight percent of the information in these files has been redacted.” One snarky eyebrow climbed up his brow. I folded my arms over my chest.

“Your point?”

“My point is that those are useless. You gave me clearance to work on this case--”

“We never said it was a case. This is you digging around to satisfy one of those itches you get inside your head.” Jack leaned up to rest his elbows on his desk. “If and when I decide that this warrants further investigation _then_ we’ll call it a case and open the files.”

“Then why even give me these?”

He shrugged. “To give you something to do until the itch stopped itching.”

“You know what?” I managed to push out around the anger. “I do not appreciate you placating me. Keep those bloody useless files. I’ll go figure this out without your help.” I flung the printouts at him then exited his office much faster than I had entered.

“Ianto, would you just… Ianto. Damn it, come back in here!”

“Go to hell!” I shouted back to him then thundered past a wide-eyed Tosh. I didn’t stop until I was outside sucking in deep pulls of Cardiff Bay. Being in love with the boss was not all slap and tickle as Owen and the others thought. God, he was the most frustrating man at times! Fine. If he thought I was being foolish and overreacting, I’d just have to show him otherwise.

Stalking off to my car the words of one tweaked-out blowfish came back to me as it always did when I was fighting with my wavering self-confidence.

_“Which leaves me with the office boy, promoted beyond his measure.”_

“Fuck you too, Fish Face.”

 

 

**To be continued…**


	3. The Bridge - Chapter Three - Here Then Gone

**The Bridge (Ianto Solo)**

**Chapter Three**

**Here Then Gone**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

I stood outside the Montwood, hands on my hips, gauging if I could reach a small window above the marquee if I used the dumpster to stand on. I judged that I could but the infiltration of the theatre would have to wait until after the cinema had closed. My plan was to buy a ticket tonight, glue my ass to a seat in one of the four theaters, and see what happened. If no rift spike occurred then I’d leave and try the dumpster-to-window method to check things out more closely once the staff was gone. I knew that was a bit of a haphazard way to go about investigating the man’s disappearance, but what other option was there?

I pulled out my stop watch and saw that it was only three in the afternoon. The lobby didn’t open until six so I had three hours to kill. Since I was still put out with Jack, going back to the Hub was not happening. I didn’t want to go home to sulk or clean. I ended up at Enid’s flat. It was time to drop in and check on her anyway. Probably that bloody cat box was dirty.

****

“Did you get the cat box scooped?” Enid asked an hour later while doddling about the kitchen gathering up snacks as I scrubbed my hands vigorously.

“Yes. You need to switch that cat from canned food to dry.” I turned the water off and looked around for a towel.

“It’s not good to be too firm. Who wants to strain?” the tiny blind woman asked.

“Yes, well, judging by the state of that cat box a little straining wouldn’t hurt Rupert one bit. Have you not got a towel?”

“Blow on them. I wager you’re good at that.” She laughed loudly at her witty while she shuffled past with a tea pot, two cups and a platter of something that smelled delicious on a tray. Cookies of some sort. I followed the old gal in the robe and slippers into the messy living room, wiping my hands on my trousers. “Sit down and tell me about things.”

I lifted the huge black cat from the lone recliner and gathered up a week’s worth of newspapers. Why the woman got newspapers when she was blind was anyone’s guess. Jack had once asked about that and had been told to mind his own damn business. Rupert took a swipe at me. I dropped him to the sofa beside his mistress then sat down.

Enid handed me my tea. I took a small sip and sighed. “Truly, your tea is amazing.”

“Sweet talker,” she giggled like a young miss. “If you’re good maybe I’ll leave the blend recipe to you in my will. So, tell me about things with Jack. Are you two still humping like horny hounds?”

“For a little old woman, you have an unhealthy obsession with gay sex.”

She cackled loudly then plunked three small cookies onto a china saucer and handed them to me. It never failed to amaze me that she served a rather proper tea amid all this clutter and cat hair.

“Maybe I like to hear about two young bucks getting it on. Are the kids still saying that?”

“Not since the late sixties,” I sighed into my tea cup, my cookies balanced on my thigh. “Things are fine…good, things are good with Jack. He told me that he loved me.”

Her leathery face broke into a wide grin which showed how many teeth she was missing. “See there! I _told_ you he was head over heels for you. The way he clucks around you like an old hen. Yep! I knew it.”

“Yes, you certainly did know it.” I had to concede. Lifting a cookie from the saucer I took a tiny whiff and picked up the scent of rosemary and butter. I was instantly thrown back to Hay-On-Wye. A child’s laugh echoed through my mind and soul. “If I ever have a son I’d like to name him Christopher.”

“If you’re hoping to knock up Jack I have some bad news for you.”

I rolled my eyes and gave the cookie to Rupert, who seemed to have no trouble with rosemary butter cookies. Lucky bastard.

****

“You back again?” the pimply lad asked when I handed him money for my candy and soda.

“I never got to see the ending,” I replied then pulled the box of Maltsers over the glass counter.

“Right,” he chuckled licentiously. “No wanking off in there. We’re not that kind of cinema.”

“Of course, I’d come _here_ to masturbate instead of doing it at home with ten thousand internet porn channels to choose from.” I threw the usher a sour look, grabbed my soda, and stalked to theater one without looking back. I could feel the kid looking at me, so I took a sharp left and ducked into the second theater. This one was smaller than the main one and had perhaps twenty seats. The film began within seconds. It seemed to be a horror film with vampires and werewolves scampering about. It was steampunk and rather good to be honest. The vampires in particular were quite attractive and not limited to sucking on solely female necks.

By the time we’d gotten to the middle of the film there were three people enjoying the story of the bisexual vampires. Me and two other gents. They seemed to be a couple and spent copious amounts of time whispering and kissing. Which made me miss Jack. I pulled my phone out and thought to send him a text. My thumbs were hovering over the tiny keyboard when the texting screen disappeared. The sharp shrill of the rift activity locator sounded off as a map flared to life on my cell. The glowing scarlet circle was right under me. I rushed to send off a fast text to Jack, even though I was miffed at him.

 

_If I don’t come home, I’ve been sucked into the rift during this spike. Love you. Hate your secrets - Ianto_

The surge of rift energy rolled over the three of us in that theater.

****

When I came to, I found myself on my back, gasping for air much as Jack does upon returning from the dead. I sucked in sand and grit with the first massive inhalation. My lungs tightened. I coughed in racking spells as wind lifted and blew the fine silica over my face. My chest ached by the time I was done hacking. Rolling to my side to put the wind at my back, I looked at the bodies of the two men who had been in the theater with me. Their bodies were broken, skin seared off in spots. One man’s head was flattened on the side, the pale-green sand brown as it soaked up blood and brain matter. The other fellow had fared just as badly, his ribs jutted out of his body, jagged white slivers covered with drying blood. How long had I laid here? Why was I not dead as well?

Sitting up required a few tries. I pulled out my handkerchief and wound it around the lower half of my face to keep the sand out of my nose and mouth. Then, tenderly, I stood up and assessed myself and my surroundings. Remarkably I had nothing but a pulled muscle in my lower back. None of my flesh had been seared off or my bones broken. How could that be? Gwen’s study into rift jump survivors – what little Jack hadn’t redacted – stated that there had been massive physical and/or mental changes to the few survivors that she had seen. So, why was I hale and hearty aside from a back spasm and chapped lips? Ducal slug blood? That hardly seemed likely but perhaps…after all those miserable slugs _had_ come through the rift. Perhaps their blood held more secrets than giving a bloke the ability to play Namor the Sub-Mariner in Cardiff Bay.

Keeping my back to the steady wind, I studied the landscape. It was bleak to say the least. Shifting olive-toned sand swirling and dancing around rocks. A few lone sticks that may have been trees at one time, and twin suns just peeking over the horizon. Far off, across countless dunes, lay a bridge. It must be massive to be seen from this distance. But, where there was a bridge there were people - or aliens - who engineered ways to cross chasms. Seeing proof of life had me checking the gun firmly wedged into the pocket of my jacket. It also had survived the leap through the rift seemingly unharmed. I had one clip. Eight rounds. I also had my wallet, my mobile, my phone charger, and my Bluetooth earpiece. None of the tech worked, of course. Damn Wi-Fi blackout planets. _Good, keep making jokes, Ianto. It’s either laugh or cry, right?_

Whichever, I had to move from this place. The suns had barely crested the horizon and the temperature was already rising rapidly. Against my upbringing, I searched the dead men’s pockets and found little of use. Two mobiles, wallets, a paper packet with some acetaminophen in it, assorted small change and a couple of condoms. I took it all, did my best to bury the dead men using my hands as shovels, and then set off in the direction of the bridge.

**To Be Continued...**


	4. The Bridge - Chapter Four - Edie

**The Bridge (Ianto Solo)**

**Chapter Four**

**Edie**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

To my credit, I went almost three full days before collapsing into the sand face first with death hovering over me. I’d thought that was damned impressive. After all, I was a pasty Welshman. What did I know of desert survival? Now if the rift had dropped me onto a planet where it rained all the _bloody_ time I’d have been well fit for survival.

Lying in the blistering sand, tongue swollen, exposed skin bright red, lips cracked and bleeding I found myself wishing for some of that damn Welsh rain that we all complained about. I also found myself wishing I could see Jack one more time so I could tell him that I loved him even if his use of bold black magic marker pissed me off. That’s why you should never leave a loved one with bad feelings between you and them. One never knows, especially when one is a Torchwood agent.

God, I would miss him…the touch of his hand…the feel of his mouth on my shoulder … his smile and his damn hair care products tossed about. I’d never again feel the weight of him on my back as he moved within me or heft that marvelous coat of his from the sofa and bury my nose into the material just to smell him. I’d never hear his laugh or his moans of passion. Fuck but I wanted to cry but there were no tears…the twin suns had baked them out of me. Maybe that was for the best. When the creatures of this planet – and there were quite a few as I’d heard various yelps and cries while I’d been shudderingly close to hypothermia huddled at the base of dead trees for two nights – discovered my body they’d not find a grown man with tears dried on his cheeks.

So, yes, death was not as horrid as I’d feared it would be. It arrived with sleep. My body just slipped into an ebony abyss and there was nothing more. Pity. Looked like Suzie Costello had been right after all. At least there would be no pain. Truthfully, I’d had enough in my life. A brief respite might be nice. Well, not brief. An eternal respite from the pain would be nice. Sadly, that was not to be. Pain found me. How I do not know but it did. And with the pain came sounds. Garbled sounds like speech but not speech. The blackness returned and the pain subsided.

When next the pain and unintelligible sounds returned, they came with moisture on my lips. Several droplets that I had to work to lap up. They were delicious. How I wished I had the capacity to cry! Oh, the sheer joy of those tiny beads of water slithering over my puffy lips and tongue! I tried to beg for more but my voice was weak and raspy. A small but strong hand patted my chest, spoke to me in a language I had never heard, and then dribbled a bit more water into my mouth. I slipped back into unconsciousness. Then I returned. More dribbles of water, more chatter in a tongue that made no sense, more cooling hands moving over my sunburned flesh spreading water over my skin. Again, I drifted back into the darkness. Over and over this happened until once I came back from the dreamless sleep to find a woman sitting beside me, her brown eyes flaring when my gaze met hers.

Her features were humanoid, small nose, big brown eyes, no eyebrows, or eyelashes though but a brow that had large round bumps under smooth black skin. She was a striking woman even though her head was as free from hair as her brow was. She reached over me to gather up a bowl – no… it was a large skull from some sort of predatory creature – and I noticed that she had small breasts and lean strong arms. She rattled something off to me, words that ran into each other. I understood none of it.

“Thank you,” I croaked after she gave me more water to drink. A gulp or two this time. Then the cooling bath. My puffy eyes closed as her palms splashed water over my stomach, thighs, feet, and face. She’d stripped off my clothes. I’d have to blush later. The slip of her hands over my hot skin was too enjoyable to feel shame about. She talked all the while she bathed me, her voice soft but firm. I fell back to sleep listening to her prattle on.

It felt like a long time later that I woke up to find the woman gone. Soft pelts tickled the bare skin of my back and ass. I wanted a drink. The skull lay next to me. It took every ounce of strength I had just to get myself up to one elbow and paw at the skull. Water sloshed out of the eye sockets as I lifted it to my lips. I drank it all down and ran my tongue around the inside of the skull the best that I could, desperate to get every drop. My thirst barely abated I gingerly sat up.

The skin on my arms and neck pulled. Blisters popped and oozed. My head felt fuzzy but the fog cleared after a moment. I was in a temple of some sort, or what we humans would call a temple. The room was round but clearly man – or alien – made. The cool slabs of white rock that made the floor had been laid with precision. Silvery blue flames leapt in small urns. The walls were cool white rock as well, covered with glyphs and patterns that looked to be etched or drawn on the stone. Off to the left was one doorway through which soft light could be seen.

 In the center of the room stood a pool. My mind erased all the other wonders it was seeing when it found that bubbling well. Stumbling and falling, weak beyond reason, I ended up dragging myself to the pool. I hefted my upper body over the short stone side and began cupping handful after handful up to my mouth. Glorious water! Cool and clear. I drank until I could hold no more, rolled to the side, threw up, and passed out. The sharp chiding sounds of my new friend roused me from rest. She was not happy it seemed.

I did manage to sit up to look at her pacing the small room. She was a tall woman, long-legged and not shy about her nudity. Her bare feet slapped the stones angrily as she railed at me, her bloody hands flying around her bald head.

“I was thirsty,” I told her. She stopped pacing to look at me as if I were a new kitten caught scratching on the arm of the sofa. Why did she have blood on her hands? I glanced around. Two dead animals lay by the doorway. A spear with a lethal looking stone tip rested against the smooth round doorframe. Ah. So, she’d been hunting.

She pattered over, dropped down into a crouch and took my chin in her blood-stained fingers. I felt a bit like a racehorse as she turned my head left then right. I planned to draw the line on her lifting my upper lip. My eyes darted over her, touching on her breasts, her thighs, and the hairless mound of her sex. When she patted my head my eyes flew up and I could feel a small hint of a blush coming to my cheeks. Wonderful. I’d missed being a shamefaced teen boy so much.

“Thank you for saving me. Where are my trousers?”

She blinked then fell to her ass while doing her own assessment of me. My cheeks felt much redder than the sunburn would make them.

“Trousers?” I asked.

“ _Apek von yatoup ank eeday_.”

Now I was sure that she had not really said ‘Edie’ but since that was the only thing that sounded like something in English, my brain grabbed it and held onto it. At least I had a name for her. Edie. Now if I could only get Edie to give me my pants…

 

**To Be Continued…**

 


	5. The Bridge - Chapter Five - Recovery

**The Bridge (Ianto Solo)**

**Chapter Five**

**Recovery**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

Almost dying really saps a man of his strength. I’d laid around the pool room for ten days…or what I assumed to be days. The day and night cycle here might not be twenty-four hours but my circadian rhythm told me it was close. Perhaps thirty-six hours in a planetary rotation? That was pure speculation of course.

During my ten or so long days, Edie and I began to work on communication. We struggled through four days of the typical “Me Jane, you Tarzan” sort of malarkey. Eventually she caught on that I called her Edie. She seemed rather pleased to have that name and repeated it in that short, direct way of hers. Perhaps her race doesn’t use names? My name…well, that was a bit of a tussle for her to get down. We called it good when she said “An-Toe” which was quite close enough.

My trousers and all my personal effects had been returned to me but not my shirt, shoes, or my undergarments. Asking about their whereabouts had gotten me a befuddled look. Edie then had reached out to pat my chest then pluck at the hairs on my right pectoral. When I yelped, her brown eyes went round. Then she proceeded to pull at all the hair on me that she could reach. Thank God I’d gotten my balls covered. After a rather nasty pull on my arm hair, I had barked out a “No!” and she quickly stopped. But now, every time she passed me or was near me, she simply had to run her fingers through my hair, or the short beard on my face. The facial hair really intrigued her. She’d spend great deals of time stroking my face and talking in her clipped tongue.

“Obviously, body hair is a new thing for you,” I said one day about three weeks into my recovery. She smiled and nodded, which was something else she’d picked up from me. Edie had trouble with English but her knack for picking up body language was incredible. She now knew lots of rude gestures. She could give me a thumb’s up as well but she often did that when it wasn’t appropriate. Overall though, we were communicating and that eased the pain of my situation a bit.

She made me smile and I spent hours trying to unravel her and her race as I slowly recuperated. I wondered if her lack of body hair was an adaptation of her race since they lived on a desert planet. Who needs hair if it’s two hundred degrees outside? Although, with the drop in temperatures at night, a bit of fuzz on your muff might be damn cozy. So, perhaps she wasn’t a native of this world at all. If not, how did she get here? So many questions.

My mind itched non-stop. The mental itch made me pine for Jack. His loss was like a gaping hole in my soul. I’d been rather good about not using my mobile but that night, as Edie slept by the doorway with her spear at her side, I rolled away from her, dug into the gritty back pocket of my trousers, and extracted my phone. The other mobiles from the dead men were non-functioning, the leap through the rift killing them as it had the blokes who had owned them. I had concluded that the alien technology that had been downloaded into my mobile the day I joined Torchwood had saved it in some manner. Possibly. Or possibly not. More dangling questions with no answers. Mine had a seventy-five percent charge left. I’d just flip through the pictures. When the phone chimed as it turned on, I heard Edie’s feet hitting the cool stone floor.

“An-toe?” She sat down behind me and leaned over my hip, her bony elbows digging in. She pointed at the phone, her ebony skin glistening with a sapphire glow from the flames in the urns. How they burned as they did I’d not figured out yet. Some sort of gas from under the surface of the planet was my educated guess but I’d not been strong enough to poke around fully.

“It’s a phone.” She snuggled in close behind me, her knees poking the small of my back now.

“Pone,” she repeated and stroked my hair.

“Good, yes, a phone.” I opened my pictures and began swiping. “This is Jack.” I handed the mobile to her. She gingerly took it. The image was one of Jack lying in bed with a new dawn shining on him. He’d been half awake when I had taken it, his beautiful blue eyes hooded yet filled with simmering passion. God above, I _yearned_ for him…

“Hoppy,” she stated, patting at her left eye.

“Yes, he makes my eyes happy too.” Yet another woman smitten with Jack Harkness. “He’s my boyfriend. Well, _was_ my boyfriend. My boss too. Office romance. Very risqué,” I snorted after Edie handed my mobile back. “I’m not sure if he’s moved on yet or not. Time is so goofy, you know. Jack makes these vague references to how easy it is to alter history. Make a left turn instead of a right and change your life, save a kid who should have died of polio and he ends up being Prime Minister or President and goes on to save a million lives or a dictator who ends a million lives. Time. It’s not what we think at all. It wavers and shifts. What’s three weeks here could be three years on earth. If he’s got a new man in his life…”

I let that drift off because thinking about losing him after I’d just truly found him was too crushing.

Edie chose that time to lay down behind me and start playing with my hair again. I turned off my phone, tucked it under my pelts next to my handgun, and closed my eyes. Her warm body pressed into my back wasn’t unpleasant. The stroke of her fingers through my hair made the ache just a bit less overwhelming. Using my arm as a pillow, I let the sounds of the pool burbling and the soft pleasure of her touch on my neck lull me to sleep. It seemed as if I’d just slid into a sound slumber when Edie jerked behind me, her hand tightening in my hair. My eyes flew open but I lay still on the furs, the raspy huffs of an invader to our little pool room bouncing loudly off the cool white walls.

 

**To Be Continued…**


	6. The Bridge - Chapter Six - Dinner Will Be Served Shortly

**The Bridge (Ianto Solo)**

**Chapter Six**

**Dinner Will Be Served Shortly**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

Edie pushed on the side of my skull, indicating I was to keep my head where it was. The beast behind us snorted, a low growl rumbling across my skin setting my heart to pounding. Edie’s body tensed and then she was gone. The creature snarled. Edie shrieked. I jammed my hand under the pelts, slid my fingers around my gun, and pulled it out from under me. Things happened in a blur of sound and violence. Edie kicked out at the beast which I could best describe as a jacked-up jackal, and sent it flying into the wall with all the artwork. The animal shook off the impact and righted itself, its blocky head moving left and right, trying to judge which of us would be the easiest to kill.

Edie was sprinting for her spear by the entrance. I sat up, placed my sights on the mangy looking canine’s long snout and pulled the trigger just before it swung its dark head in my direction. The bullet missed its mark by a good meter. The ricochet hit the pool, sending water flying into the air. Edie screamed in fright and fell to the ground mumbling. The animal was also stunned by the sound and flash, its yellow eyes wide and its tall ears flat to its skull. I cursed myself for missing. Seven rounds left. I had to be more careful. It wasn’t like I could go the ammo locker at the Hub for more clips.

The jackal made its move, opting to go after Edie now probably because of the report of the gun. It threw its bulk to the right, claws scrabbling to find purchase on the smooth stone floor. Edie was whimpering as she lay huddled on the floor, her arms over her bald head. With the beast moving and the poor light, my chances of a killing shot were diminished, but I fired off a round anyway, aiming for the heaving sides of the beast. The shot hit it soundly in the neck. The jackal whirled and snapped at its invisible attacker. I shot again, this round pushing through the animal’s dense fur and into its lungs. Wheezing violently, it ran for the doorway then faltered, its back legs going out from under it. The front quarters then listed to the left and it crashed to the floor where it died a few moments later.

“Edie?” I called after I found my voice.

“ _An-toe drot vot_.”

“Can you use my words?” I muttered and got to my feet. I was pleased to discover that my head didn’t spin now. I walked over to her. She was a ball of trembling flesh. When I touched her back she squeaked and scurried away from me, her dark eyes wide as dinner plates.

“ _An-toe drot vot kee apack._ ”

“Use my words,” I stated sharply, hoping my tone would push through her fear.

“An-toe! Bad like _apack_ God dammit!”

That made me chuckle. I dropped to one knee, patted her quaking shoulder, and laughed for the longest time. Edie sat up after a moment or two, her expression bewildered, and then smiled shakily. We sat side by side staring at the dead jackal, me laughing like a demented fool, and Edie toying with the hair on my left arm.

“Is that an _apack_?” I asked and jerked my head at the dead beast. Edie shook her head then pushed to her feet. She pattered over to the art wall then pointed at the drawings and etchings. I got to my bare feet and joined her, the flickering blue fire seemingly making the illustrations dance.

“ _Apack_ ,” she tapped a drawing. It smudged. “ _Apack_ bad God dammit.”

“I’m so glad to hear that my contribution to your education has been profanity.” I stepped around her to study the images. The drawings were crude and showed a lone figure on a hill. “Is this you?”

“Edie yes.” She tapped a stick figure lying prostate on the ground. “An-toe.”

“Ah, well it’s not a bad likeness.” I had probably dropped twenty pounds since arriving here. Now that I felt somewhat better it was time to get moving and rebuild my strength. “And these things here? Are they the _apack_?”

“Yes, _apack_ bad God dammit.” She left me staring at the wall to tend to the jackal. Looked like I’d just brought supper home. Mm-mm. Sand jackal short ribs. The drawings were too hard to decipher in this light so I went to my pelt to exchange my gun for my mobile. Edie murmured something when the flashlight app kicked on.

“I’m not a god if that’s what you’re thinking,” I told her as I walked back to the etchings and sketching’s.

“An-toe God dammit,” she mumbled while sliding the edge of her spear into the jackal’s lower belly cavity to open it up for gutting.

“Yep, damn me to hell,” I replied as I slowly ran the bright beam of white light over the wall. The etchings showed an alien craft in the sky above a large group of stick people with spears. I followed the crude story line along the wall, watching as the stick people were taken up into the sky? Across the big bridge? It was hard to tell. I moved the light to the right a bit more. My grip on my mobile got shaky, my palms damp. “Edie, is this an _apack_?”

She glanced up, steaming entrails in her hands, and nodded briskly. “Bad God dammit.”

I looked at the amazingly detailed drawing of a Cyberman done in dried blood. There was no way it could be anything else. Those helmets are unmistakable. Were they still on this planet? Across that massive bridge? My chest tightened at the thought. The memories of Canary Wharf burned brightly in front of me for several moments.

“Yes, very bad. God dammit,” I replied weakly.

 

**To be continued…**

 

 

 


	7. The Bridge - Chapter Seven - The Out

**The Bridge (Ianto Solo)**

**Chapter Seven**

**The Out**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

 

Five days passed as Edie and I feasted on roasted jackal which is not as bad as you’d think. It’s true what your mam said about how you’d eat just about anything if you were hungry enough. You’d even suck the marrow out of charred canine bones.

Also, in case you’re ever stranded on an alien planet with hybrid sand jackals, the fat found inside the animal makes a wonderful salve for severely sunburned skin. It stinks like a dead cat but it works. All the blisters had now popped and scabbed over. The drying little bastards itched terribly so the greasy, rank salve was a blessing. But God, was the smell horrific. Edie got mad at me for washing off the pasty shit every day but I had to at least _attempt_ to bathe at least once a day. Scrubbing with sand then rinsing off with water from a skull was a far cry from what I was used to which was a hot shower with an equally hot Jack.

We also explored the vast underground temple to help build up my strength. In actuality, the temple had, at one time, sat above ground, or so I hypothesized. Something had happened, a shift in the planet’s tectonic plates, or some other major catastrophe, and the sands had swallowed the temple. Edie had chosen our little lair well, for not only did it have light which _was_ supplied by natural gas flowing up from the depths of this arid planet as I had suspected, it also had water. Water that drew animals. They’d slink through the corridors, drawn by the scent, seeking to slake their thirst, and Edie would ambush them.

During those five days, I thought. _A lot_. About the Cybermen on the wall and if they were still to be found across that bridge. I drilled Edie about it constantly, even to the point that she got so fed up with the constant questions she had no answers for that she slapped the stone floor, called me a bad mud-fucker, and stalked off to go lie in wait for a passing critter and enjoy the silence.

I couldn’t help it. The itch inside my head was non-stop now. If, and that was a _huge_ if, but _if_ the Cybermen were still on this planet that meant they had advanced technology. Technology that, if given time, I could probably finagle into sending out a homing beacon using my mobile and my Torchwood internal messenger. Of course, my seed of a plan would only work _if_ the Cybermen were still here and _if_ I wasn’t killed or captured during my attempt to phone home. Obviously, it was a foolhardy, reckless, and probably deadly plan but it was the only plan I had so I would run with it. No one ever said Torchwood agents were smart. Brave yes. Smart? That was questionable at times because would an intelligent person ever work for Torchwood?

 The thought of going home made me restless and unable to sleep well despite feeling stronger than I had for weeks. Edie grew weary of my pacing, staring at the art work and mumbling, and sitting by the leaping blue flames of a gritty urn to study the pictures that I had taken of the etchings and drawings. If I ever got home Tosh would love seeing them. My mobile was now down to less than a fifty percent charge so I turned it off to save the battery life and didn’t turn it back on, no matter how much I longed to look at Jack. One night she threw a pelt at me as I sat formulating and finalizing my plan.

“Come to out,” she stated before grabbing her spear and stalking off. I hurried to my feet, threw the pelt over my shoulders, and followed her out into the world. The air was cool on my face, the sand still hot but not so hot it burned bare soles. I followed her as she walked with purpose, her long legs carrying her up sand dunes with speed that I was hard pressed to match.

“I really need to find a gym in the neighborhood,” I panted after climbing a particularly steep dune. Edie patted my arm as I heaved and huffed.

“An-toe look for _apack_. There.” She pointed with her spear. My sight raced over the dunes and lighted on the bridge. It was closer now. Much closer. How far had she drug me when she had found me? I thought to ask but she’d not be able to tell me. “An-toe see _apack_. Now Edie and An-Toe go hunt and no see _apack_ no more.”

“I can’t do that,” I murmured as I stared at the bridge. It was not of this world, that was obvious now. Despite being covered with sand the metal used to build the massive structure was clear in the soft moonlight. “I have to go find them and use their machines to send a message home.”

“ _NO!_ ” She barked and swatted me soundly on the biceps. “No go _apack_! An-toe go get dead. No. An-toe stay now for Edie. Be safe. Not go.”

“Edie, I have to try.”

Wind whipped over us, throwing silica into our faces and pulling strongly on the skins on our backs. She spun angrily from me. I watched her go back in the direction of the buried temple and then I threw a look at the bridge. Maybe she was right. Probably she was right. Going near that bridge could very well mean my death but I had to try. If I failed…well, I’d be dead or a Cyberman. Neither were appealing but knowing that I could have tried to get myself and Edie off this fucking miserable planet and didn’t because I was scared to die wasn’t at all what a Torchwood agent would do. It _certainly_ was not what Jack Harkness would do either. Of course, Jack couldn’t die but it was the sentiment of the idea and all that. Above all, I wanted Jack to be proud of me in life and yes, even in death, when it came.

Which was why, three nights later, I slipped out of the temple while Edie was sleeping, and set off for the bridge. I had my gun, my mobile, a water pouch made out of some dead beast, and a stinking jackal pelt for a cape. Yep. Ianto Jones was ready to be a superhero. Or a dead man. I’d not like to wager on which it would be…

I walked for hours, stopping to sip on my water only when thirst became an issue. I was not as strong as I would have liked but the need to do this had grown to be overwhelming. Why put off for tomorrow and all that rot. In the distance, I heard the yelps and yips of the sand jackals out prowling the dunes. As I neared the bridge I worried about the jackals less and less. I suspected I had a few hours of darkness left. I flopped to the sand after digging my way up a massive dune. Sand burned my eyes and lingered on my tongue. I laid on my stomach and looked down on the bridge. The edge rested at the bottom of this dune. My stomach knotted up with anxiety. Something kicked me in the ass. I rolled over, gun out and safety off in a flash. Edie booted me in the hip while saying some unladylike things. I had taught her well.

“An-toe big stew-pud ass.” She kicked me in the hip again then sat down beside me, scowling deeply. “An-toe bad God dammit.”

“You should have stayed at the temple,” I sighed, flipping my safety on. She mumbled something that I didn’t understand then laid down on her stomach. “Go back.”

“No. An-toe go dead Edie go dead.”

That was noble and endearing. Dumb as well, but mostly noble and endearing. Arguing with her would be moot. She was ridiculously stubborn. “Okay. We’ll go get dead together.” We slithered down the dune on our asses, hit the bottom, and slowly got to our feet. The bridge hummed. “Probably a force field or some sort of motion or weight detector.”

“An-toe bad God dammit.”

“Yes, I am. And stupid.” I inhaled deeply, exhaled, and stepped out onto the cool metal overpass.

“Big stew-pud,” she whispered as her bare feet also hit the bridge. She grabbed my fingers and held them tightly.

“Enormously big stew-pud,” I concurred.

We stood on the bridge, hand-in-hand, and waited…

 

**To be continued…**


	8. The Bridge - Chapter Eight - The Other Side

**The Bridge (Ianto Solo)**

**Chapter Eight**

**The Other Side**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

Nothing happened. I could feel some sort of transient pulse move through the overpass we stood upon. The surge was terribly weak, barely enough to make the hairs on your arm stand up, but it was there. I glanced up at the girders overhead, catching the sound of the wind as it blew across the beams creating a low hum that baffled me.

“I’m assuming this bridge was laced with energy at some time? Perhaps some sort of stunning pulse much like an electric fence people on Earth use to keep livestock in. If it were strong enough it would drop a person quickly but not kill them. Seems Cybermen would want all the humanoids they could get to bolster their ranks. Was that it? Have you ever seen that happen?”

Edie never replied. Probably because she had no clue what I was rambling on about. We slowly made our way across the bridge, our pace almost painfully slow. I held Edie back with a firm hand. I’d seen what these bastards did to people. The disregard for human life and the cold indifference for how they ruined lives would never leave me.

“An-toe ow,” she whined and pulled her hand free as we crossed the halfway point.

“Sorry, but please don’t rush in. Stay right at my side,” I said, wind and sand whipping over us. My gaze flew to the other side of the bridge, trying to lift any small detail that I could from the mounds of shifting sands. “The winds are so strong here that we may have to dig around to find a doorway if there even is one. Are you sure that you don’t know if they left or… _Edie!_ ” She threw me a look over her bare shoulder. I motioned at her to come to me. I bloody refused to look over the side as she was now. Never look down. That’s rule number one in crossing a bridge over a gaping crevasse of death. “Do you know what staying at my side means?!”

“No.”

Her candor slapped me in the face. “It means come here and stay here.” I waved a hand at my left side.

She pattered over and, thankfully, stayed with me the rest of the way across the chasm. When we stepped off the monstrous metal thing we stopped, anxiously listening, trying to pluck any dangerous sounds out of the wind. About forty meters ahead stood two metallic obelisks that were perhaps twenty meters tall. My eyes stung and my mouth was dry. I passed the water skin to Edie who drank deeply then handed it back to me. Warm water never tasted so good.

I rinsed and spit then swallowed quickly. Edie now seemed to be less inclined to bull ahead. I could understand that perfectly. The sounds and smells of Canary Wharf were pressing on me to stop, turn, and run back to our little room under the sand. We could live out our lives here. Maybe – after a few years – I’d get over Jack and she and I could be more than friends. She was a striking female in a Grace Jones sort-of way and seemed to be enthralled with my hairy Welsh self so…

“Would Jack turn back, Ianto? No, he would not. He’d toss that cleft chin of his into the air and stride right up to danger and handle it. _Then_ he’d go back to the temple and shag the sexy woman and/or man he had faced danger with,” I told myself then squared my shoulders, Lisa’s pleading cries as I pulled her from the wreckage of Torchwood London louder than the wind now.

Edie stayed at my side, even though her fear was obvious. “Stay _here._ ” I pointed at the ground where we stood. Edie mumbled in her native tongue while gesticulating madly with her spear. “Yes, that’s right.” I had no clue what she was saying. I walked between the obelisks while she shouted at me. A snap of electricity ran over me, lifting the hair on my head just for a moment. The twin towers began to glow and vibrate. I skittered back. Edie grabbed me around the waist and began pulling me back in the direction we had come, screaming about _apacks_ and dead An-Toe’s.

The ground trembled. Sand rose and fell in front of us, the large dune heaving up as if something were alive and burrowing upward. Edie yanked on me strongly, pleading with me, but I stood my ground, gun with five rounds raised at the undulating sand dune. The dune then exploded, sending tons of sand flying into the wind. I turned and pulled Edie’s face into my chest while I buried my nose into her neck.

The blast rolled over us, sand scrubbing at exposed flesh as the force of the expulsion nearly blew us off our feet. Edie clung to me.

And then it was done.

I lifted my face from her shoulder, opened my eyes gingerly, and then slowly tried to release Edie. It was akin to trying to free yourself from a terrified cat. I pried her fingers from the waist of my pants while telling her it was okay. Her dark eyes were round with fear.

“It’s over now,” I patted her strong shoulder. Turning from the shaking woman, I gaped at the massive doorway awaiting me. It had the look of sterling silver, although I was sure it was much stronger than some old industrial stew pot. Probably constructed of the same bulletproof material that the Cybermen’s exo-skeleton was created from. “Shall we knock?”

My companion refused or couldn’t speak. She hid her mouth behind a fist while using me as a shield. Smart woman. I ran my hand over the doorframe. The top of the jamb was out of my reach. The sides were smooth and cool. I saw no panels or locks of any kind, but when my palm moved over a small indentation at chest level the two doors ground open. I looked at the dark cavernous interior then back at Edie.

“Go back,” I motioned at her, waving my hand at the bridge. She shook her head although it was obvious she was terrified. “Go back where it’s safe. I’m going in.” I pointed to the inky blackness behind me.

“An-toe go Edie go.”

Bless her heart.

“Okay then, let’s do this.” I removed my mobile from my front pocket, tapped the flashlight app, and stepped inside the Cyberman base, Edie on my heels whispering what could only be a prayer. I might have let an appeal or two for divine assistance pass my lips as well. “And I used to think as a kid watching _Aladdin_ that stepping into the Cave of Wonders was cool.”

“Cave of Won-doors,” Edie parroted. It almost made me smile. Almost.

 

**To be continued…**

 


	9. The Bridge - Chapter Nine - Déjà Vu

**The Bridge (Ianto Solo)**

**Chapter Nine**

**Déjà Vu**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

It took us perhaps twenty skittish steps to encounter our first Cyberman. Or, Cyber _men,_ to be correct. There were at least fifty of the cybernetic horrors lined up on both sides of a rounded corridor. My heart began to hammer in my chest. Edie had a firm grip on the back of my grimy trousers, her whispers running over and over on a loop. I stopped dead and waited, gun lined up on the first hulking form to my right. I moved the beam of light from my phone to the Cyberman. Dust covered his shoulders and helmet. There was no movement or other signs of life.

“Perhaps they’re in some sort of power saving mode,” I told Edie at my back. “Why were they left here though?” My light moved over the rest. It was the most terrifying line of tin soldiers I had ever seen. “Do they do this frequently? Set up outposts and fill them with a small army? Dear God, are these your people?”

I turned to look at Edie. She turned her head from the light. I decided against pushing her. The tears wetting her cheeks was reason enough. It didn’t really matter who they were did it? They’d more than likely been taken against their will and converted. Hatred began to overwhelm me. For all the lives lost to these abominations. For Lisa. For me. For my friends at the Hub and Jack, who I subjected to this race. They could have been assimilated and converted. All of them. Owen, Gwen, Tosh…Jack. Me. The whole bloody world could have fallen and it would have been my fault. I spun from Edie and lunged at one of them. Strong arms around my waist yanked me back. The rage inside me quieted when I whirled around to shout at Edie and saw the terror in her eyes.

“No, An-toe no.” She patted my face with her free hand. In her left, she held a spear. A spear. Of course, a spear would be about as effective as all the advanced weaponry at Torchwood One had been. We could have been throwing rocks at the invading forces of Daleks and Cybermen for as much good as we did in slowing them down.

“Thank you.” My voice bounced off the metallic walls and those lined up against them. “Let’s see if we can find the communications center. There must be one somewhere or how would they know when to power up and move out?”

“Cave of Won-doors,” Edie muttered.

 _Not even close, my friend._ “What I wouldn’t give for a flying carpet and a zany genie right about now.”

 We walked past the Cybermen slowly, placing our bare feet carefully, my eyes darting side to side in case one of them began to move. None did. Soft blue lights lined the hall. The corridor we were in ended in yet another hall, this one branching off to the left and to the right. “Which way?” I asked Edie. She pointed right so that was the way we went. The base was cool, the floor gritty, the air growing increasingly staler the deeper we went. I thought it odd that it was so sparse but then I realized that plush accommodations weren’t really needed. The Cybermen required no galley, no showers or sleeping quarters, and no recreational areas. Once their objective was completed, they probably returned to this base, converted Edie’s people, and then went into a sleeper mode until something activated them again. That was my hypothesis anyway.

The lone room off this corridor was a massive area filled with generators. I wanted to poke around more, get a deeper look into how the power was generated, where it went and how, but Edie was becoming horribly anxious. Also, I had to conserve as much battery power as possible. We left the generator room and jogged down the hall, giving the stoic cybernetic sentries a close look as we moved pass the main corridor.

There was one lone door at the end of this hallway as well. There were no locking mechanisms. Smug bastards probably assumed that they needed no locks or security. I hoped I could toss a nice, fat monkey wrench into their works somehow. Pushing into the dusty room, I stepped in front of Edie and let my light roam over massive panels of gently blinking lights.

“Hello sweetie,” I murmured when my sight settled on a communications console. “Leave that door open,” I told Edie who was pacing the room like a caged jaguar. She nodded as she prowled, her nerves slightly contagious. I slid under the console and began tugging wires free. I felt relatively confident that I could integrate my mobile into the system. I’d spent months tending to a woman who – as it turned out – was more Cyberman than human. I was painfully familiar with the internal programming used and how it worked. Seated under the console, my mobile shining up, I began stripping wires with my teeth, grateful that the power system was easy to bypass.

“An-toe fast God dammit,” Edie mumbled as she made a pass.

“I’m going as fast as I can. Just watch the door and let me know if you see anything coming that _isn’t_ a dashing man in a RAF great coat.”

“Dash man?”

“Yes, Jack is quite dashing,” I said then twisted two thin wires together.

“Ah! Jock! Happy eyes.”

“That’s him.”

I pulled my phone charger out of my pocket, removed the end that slid into my mobile, and then joined my phone with the communications center of this desolate Cyberman base. I held my breath. No alarms sounded off so I breathed out and climbed out from under the console. Next I fished out my Bluetooth earpiece and slid it into my ear. Placing my mobile, which was tethered to the system, to the console I glanced at Edie at the doorway. She must have felt my eyes on her for she turned her head and flashed me a weak smile. I tapped the Bluetooth and whispered a small prayer. Imagine how incredible it would have been to be connected to the Hub right off, but that was not how this was set up to work. The homing pulse was more like a blip that would feed to the Hub every ten seconds until the battery on my mobile died. I had thirty-two percent left and it was draining quickly. Each tone in my ear gave me a little more hope as long as the software scaffolded properly.

“An-toe…”

I heard it the same time Edie did. The strike of metallic feet.

“Fuck,” I whispered and ran at the doorway. “Come on, we have to lead them away from the homing pulse so it can run until the battery dies.”  

I raced around her and waited in the corridor. She lingered in the communications room, fear etched into her handsome face. The footfalls grew closer. Edie’s eyes leaped around and then settled on me. She threw herself at me, her mouth slanting over mine, and kissed me with such passion it staggered me. Then she was gone, thundering down the hall, trilling, and waving her spear.

“ _Edie!_ ” I bellowed at her bare back. She rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. I ran after her, skidding on the sand where the hallways formed a T. I was too late to do anything other than watch her being dropped to the floor, electricity leaping from her shuddering, lifeless body. I fired off a round at the monster who had killed her. The bullet bounced off, drawing the attention of the other forty or so Cyberman flickering back into service. “Bastards,” I seethed, fired off my remaining rounds, and counted myself lucky to hit one of the fucker’s dead center of the chest, shattering the “heart” as well as the emotional inhibitor chip inside.

I gathered Edie up and began dragging her through the enemies, her head lolling and her heels leaving trails in the inch or so of sand on the floor. Robotic cries of “Delete! Delete!” bounced off the walls, filling my head with memories of flames, death, and Lisa’s pained shrieks and pleas for death. More of them were pulling free of the ports they had been attached to. I tripped and stumbled, straining to pull Edie outside. I refused to leave her behind to let her bones be tread upon by the boots of the Cybermen. My ass hit one of the pylons and the shock that flared out of it knocked me off my feet. I landed on my side ten feet from the snapping pylons, my heart beating irregularly as I gasped for breath.

“No! Don’t you touch her!” I wheezed as I struggled to make my limbs work properly. Edie was gathered up by one of the Cybermen. I pushed to my feet and awkwardly rushed at the cybernetic monster that was carrying her back inside. Several more gathered around me, one getting a hand on my neck. I spun to avoid his fingers tightening on me and lost sight of Edie as the Cybermen closed in, emotionless voices reminding me that I would be assimilated. I decided to try my best to take as many out as I could. I rushed at them, wrapped my arms around two, and drove them into the now fully functional obelisk. I jumped back as the two had their servos fried. I twirled around, rage unlike anything I had ever felt roiling inside me, and dove onto the back of the Cyberman carrying Edie’s body inside. Why they wanted it I had no clue. Maybe her brain was still usable? Didn’t matter. They weren’t touching her as long as I pulled breath.

I twisted on its head until the connections running from the human brain inside tore free. The Cyberman collapsed and dropped Edie to the sand. I pushed the convulsing monster aside and scooped her up, backing slowly away from the oncoming death squad. My left foot found the edge of the ravine. I glanced down and something inside my head made the call. I inhaled through my nose, Edie’s dead body in my arms, and pulled up one last image of Jack – one where he was above me in bed, his naked flesh hot and tacky as it rested on mine, elbows locked and stunning blue eyes vibrant with lust and love – closed my eyes and turned to face my death. Better to lie dead at the bottom of this alien ravine than to be turned. I’d seen that misery first hand.

Something grabbed me around the waist, strong arms cinching tightly around my midsection. It pulled me back from diving into the chasm. Edie’s body fell from my arms to my feet, her arm dangling over the side. I began to battle wildly, hoping to reach back and yank the damn cybernetic prick’s head off if necessary. My fingers slid into hair.

“I’ve got you, Ianto, I have you.”

Jack. That was Jack’s voice! I released his hair so that I could turn and face him. “Jack,” I coughed, his name sticking in my throat. His unique scent wrapped around me.

“Being a hero is all about the timing,” he replied as his eyes flickered over me. “Not so sure about all that facial hair.”

“I know it’s a special time and all but did we forget about the bloody Cybermen rolling out of that damn bunker?” Owen barked as he stepped out of the pulsing rift portal that now stood open on the bridge. Jack must have fixed his wrist strap and had brought the doctor in case I had been injured. That touched me deeply. I tore myself free from Jack, gave the medic standing on the bridge a warm look, and then ran back to the ledge. Jack pulled me back, shoving me roughly behind him and to Owen.

“Get him into the portal. _Now!_ ” Jack barked then pulled an odd-looking sort of bazooka from the folds of his coat.

“No, I have to get Edie!” I yelled as Jack hoisted the massive weapon up and fired what looked like a huge cloud of gold dust into the air. Owen and I wrestled with each other, the rift energy reaching out to touch me. “I have to bury her!”

“You have to get into the portal, Ianto,” Owen ground out, his grip much stronger than I recalled.

Owen flung us to the side and into the portal, Jack pushing through the cloud of gold dust to gather up Edie and then leaping in as the sparkling gold particles in the air began to fall over the Cybermen. I managed to catch a glimpse of them as they began dropping to the ground, seemingly momentarily stunned. Owen and I fell out of the portal into the Hub. Jack came through a second later, Edie resting in his strong arms, his hair glimmering with gold dust.

Owen got up then helped me to my feet, chatter from Gwen and Tosh flowing over us. I leaned on the medic but my gaze was on Jack. Our sight met.

“We’ll take care of her,” Jack told me. I nodded, Owen holding more of my weight with each passing second. “Get him to the medical bay.” Jack spun on his heel and stalked off, Edie’s long legs bouncing with each forceful step. I knew where he was going. To the alien deep freeze in a lower level. To where we all would one day end up. He was going to place Edie with the fallen Torchwood agents until we could tend to her services properly.

“Come on, mate, let’s get you into a bed so I can have something to tell him when he gets back. Man’s been bloody over the edge with worry the past five months.”

I looked at Owen, his dark eyes medically assessing me even now, as Gwen and Tosh moved into to hug me gingerly. Five months? Had I truly been gone five months? Dear God, poor Jack. I tried to find him over Gwen’s shoulder but he was gone. Five months…how he must have mourned my loss. Edie’s wide smile crept into my thoughts. Now I’d be mourning her. Does the grieving ever end? I clung to my teammates tightly and vowed that I would do whatever was needed to keep these people nearby and safe.

 

**To be continued…**

 


	10. The Bridge - Chapter Ten - Prose Among the Pillows

**The Bridge (Ianto Solo)**

**Chapter Ten**

**Prose Amid the Pillows**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

Twelve hours and one invasive and complete check-up later, Owen pronounced me fit as a fiddle but in dire need of nutrition and hydration. He prescribed a multivitamin, massive amounts of groceries to put back the twenty-two pounds I’d lost, lots of spring water and several good meals at posh eateries all on Jack’s credit card. Jack had been extremely quiet during the long and drawn out check-up. He’d smile and toss a witty remark here and there, but his spirit seemed subdued. He would periodically touch me on the arm, back, or face. Gentle, quick caresses, but reassuring all the same. I’d been told I’d be under medical watch for a day or so. Jack insisted on taking me back to my flat. Owen and he had a brilliant row over it but, in the end, as always, Jack won.

With Jack at my side like a worrisome mother hen, we stepped out into the parking lot  and found the SUV sitting in its spot.

“Has no one washed it while I was gone?” I asked, exhaustion both mental and physical now creeping into the marrow of my bones.

“A dusty car was the least of our worries,” Jack stated then yanked open the passenger side door. I moved around him to get into the SUV. His hand on my arm stalled me. “I thought I’d lost you.” His voice cracked a bit. His eyes searched mine. “Hollyhocks.”

I stepped into his embrace, coiled myself around him, and buried my nose into his neck. His fingers bit into my skin, his breathing erratic and sketchy. The smell and feel of him made me lightheaded and giddy.

“I thought I’d lost you. I can’t lose you, Ianto. I just…I can’t.”

“It was me …my fault. Getting mad…walking out. God, and the text I sent you.”

He shook his head as he held me to him. Probably the others were in the Hub watching us through the CCTV cameras. Didn’t care. Let them watch.

“Ianto, that was me. Totally on my shoulders.” He pulled back an inch. I lifted my face from his neck and stared into tortured blue eyes. “I love you. I want to kiss you. Can I? Are you still in love with me or did that woman and you--”

I pressed my mouth to his. The kiss was chaste, closed-mouthed because I’d not had a toothbrush for as long as I’d been on that miserable planet. Sand is a poor tasting toothpaste. Jack didn’t seem to mind over much. His pain and passion were evident in the soft, tender kiss.

“No one could ever replace you in my heart,” I whispered over his lips. He closed his eyes as if in bliss then he rested his brow against mine. There we stood for several minutes, just holding each other. How odd it must have seemed to anyone who might happen upon us. But right now, we needed the feel of the other more than anything else. Sleep? Fuck that. Food? Fuck that as well. Jack’s strong arms around me, his breath dancing over my cheek, his body steely and tight pressing into me. Yes, please.

“Right, good to know. I have _so_ many questions but you need rest. And a shower. And a razor. And food.” He released me and took a step back to get some warm air between us. When I’d left, it had been late winter and now it was what…August? The time jump was causing all sorts of confusion to my internal clocks. At least the nausea of time travel was a thing of the past. “You’re officially off-duty until you’re back to fighting weight. No, don’t even try to bicker me out of that. Just get into the car so I can get you home.”

“Enid. Have you stopped in to check on her?”

“Yes, she’s fine. Get into the car.”

“Did you visit Rhiannon? Tell her something so she wouldn’t worry?”

“Yes. I told her you were on an extended business trip. Now get into the car.”

“My mum? Did you call her?”

“I had Rhiannon do that. Now, please, get into the car so I can take you home and feed you.”

I drew in a deep breath just to enjoy the moist smell and taste of Cardiff Bay. I felt so empty inside, the loss of Edie gnawing at me steadily, leaving me dull-witted. Combined with my depleted state I was washed completely out.

“I really _am_ hungry for something other than jackal,” I confessed as I dropped into the SUV. The interior was as dusty as the exterior. Jack slammed the door shut, jogged around the vehicle, then sat down behind the wheel and exhaled my name. I glanced over.

He looked from the dirty windscreen to me. “Don’t ever go rift surfing without me again, okay?”

“You have my word.”

“You _really_ need a shower and a razor.”

“Then take me home.”

“God above, I _do_ love hearing those Welsh vowels of yours.”

* * * * *

I vowed I would never take being able to shower for granted again even if the bloody water heater was too small. Also, toothpaste and toothbrushes were wonderful inventions. As was mouthwash and deodorant. As I toweled off I pondered on what Edie would have thought of my world. She would have been scared at first, but then I wager she would have barreled into life here just as she had dived into those miserable Cybermen.

I shook off the painful memory of her smile and padded to the sink to shave more closely now that my pores were open. I’d trimmed off most of the hair with shears before showering but I needed to get closer. I knew Jack was not a fan of ratty beards. I knotted the thick green towel around my waist and gathered my shaving kit while the sink filled with hot water.

His presence was felt the moment he stepped into the doorway even though I’d not seen or heard him. Using my hand, I cleared the steam from the mirror. Jack’s gaze met mine in the looking glass. He’d peeled off his shirt and braces, and now wore just his white undershirt as well as his trousers, or so I assumed. I couldn’t see below his chest in the mirror.

“I ordered some Chinese to be delivered,” he told me and I nodded. As long as it wasn’t charred dog I was fine with what was coming. He lingered behind me as I spread shaving cream on my cheeks and throat. The silence was a little unnerving.

“You may as well say what’s on your mind,” I said then pulled my razor over the thick stubble covering my face. I should have trimmed more closely but the lure of a shower had been too strong.

“I’m torn between two important issues that I really need answers for. One is scientific and one is purely personal and horrendously petty.”

I rinsed my razor then made another pass down over my adams apple. “Does the petty personal one have to do with Edie?”

“Edie, yes. Yes, it does.” He looked uncomfortable. I continued shaving as he wrestled with the question burning on his tongue. Time passed. I’d finished shaving and had drained the sink and his question still hadn’t been asked. When I turned to face him, he pushed off the doorframe and walked up to me, lifting the hand towel from the rack to dab at my neck and chin.

“You missed some.” He showed me a dollop of shaving cream on the towel.

“Is it that hard for you to ask me if I slept with her?”

“Yes. I don’t do jealousy well. Also…” he continued to pat at my neck and jaw line with the hand towel, “… I’m not generally insecure. As you know, some even tend to call me cocky or arrogantly smug.”

“I think some may include me from time to time.”

“I think you’re right.” He sighed then hooked a finger into the towel tied around my waist, his gaze now burning into mine. “Ianto, if you did I understand. You’d been gone for months and--”

“Jack, we never had sex, Edie and I. We were friends, that’s all. She saved my life.”

“Okay, that’s okay. Christ, that was so wrong of me to ask you that.”

“Why?” I wanted to know. “If our places had been reversed, I’d be feeling the same.”

He exhaled then tugged on the towel gently, not enough to pull it off, just enough to loosen it a bit. It slithered down an inch or so to rest on my hipbone.

“I should just be glad to have you back but here I am fretting over the fact that you may have found succor in the arms of someone else. That’s wrong and petty.” He rolled his eyes and I knew the next thing out of his mouth would be something intended to push away all those gummy emotions that he tried so valiantly to sidestep. “This is why people have trouble deciding if I’m pretty or petty. What do you think, Ianto Jones? Is your boss pretty or petty?”

“I think you’re both, as we all are.” I leaned in to get a kiss. A good one this time. Jack stepped into me, taking control of the moment, ripping the towel from my body then pressing himself flush against me. My fingers went under the back of his undershirt. His hands held my hips, his grip possessive as his tongue slipped over mine, claiming my mouth with bold strokes.

The doorbell rang. Jack danced backward quickly. “Okay, that was not supposed to happen. You need rest and food, not fondling.”

“I’m sure I can handle some fondling, Jack. I’m fine.”

“You seem to be _amazingly_ fit for being sucked into a rift spike and living on some hostile alien world for months.” His sight darted down to my cock which was plumping up nicely. “Which leads me to my scientific question. How the hell _can_ you be so fit after being sucked into a rift spike and living on some hostile alien world for months?”

“Aren’t the others who the rift plucks up?”

He stared at me. I got one curt shake of his head before the doorbell rang yet again.

“That’s our dinner. Get dressed. I have something to show you after we eat.”

He left me staring at his wide back nursing half an erection which I now felt guilty about because what kind of man gets a hard-on within twenty-four hours of his friend dying? I bent over to pick up the towel Jack had yanked off. I heard the conversation between him and the delivery man when I snuck from the bathroom to the bedroom. I threw the bedroom window open to let some warm summer air in.

The flat needed aired out. Did Jack not stay here while I was gone? The bed was so appealing that I dropped a knee to it and then fell face first into it. I just caught the sound of Jack still talking to the delivery boy before a deep, restorative sleep overtook me. When I woke up I was confused and foggy until I tried to roll to the left and there was Jack propped up against the headboard reading. He had somehow gotten my head on the pillow and the rest of me under the covers without waking me up. His body was throwing out waves of delicious body heat that lulled me into wanting to doze back off.

“Morning,” he said then glanced at the window. “Maybe I should say afternoon.”

I rolled to my side, trying to keep sleep from recapturing me. “How long did I sleep?”

“About twenty hours.”

“God above,” I sighed as I enjoyed simply looking up at him. In the bright sun, you could see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Laugh lines. Life lines some may call them. They added so much appeal to an already incredible face. How many times had he flashed that stunning smile in his life? When he glanced down at me again, I saw a few silver strands amid the chestnut. He was so wise, so handsome, so bold, so sensual, so full of life and that love of adventure. And he was here - still here – in my bed. “I missed you so much when I was gone.”

“And I missed you. The SUV was a mess, the coffee was terrible, and cleaning cat boxes is not a fun job.” I smiled up at him. He shifted a bit, not much, just enough that he could look down at me without craning his head so sharply. “Mostly though I missed you here beside me, looking at me as if I hung the moon and stars. God above, I sorely missed your voice and the way you roll your eyes at my puns, and the way you arch up when I’m inside you to tempt me to go deeper.”

“You really do have a romantic streak.”

“I wish I could take the credit but it’s not me, it’s all these books of yours.” He held the old worn book up. “I spent a lot of time reading them. All these great poets that you so admire. I’d take them to the Hub as I sat waiting, listening, working on repairing my wrist strap, hoping for a ping from outer space or a cry for help from the rift. I slept there, on the couch, sometimes on the floor beside the rift manipulator just in case…” He cleared his throat and opened the old tome he’d been reading. “Like this one.” He glanced down at me trying to hide a yawn. How I could be tired yet I didn’t know but my body craved more rest. “Do you think people in a relationship have a poem? You know how some couples have a song or a restaurant? Is it possible to have a poem?”

“I should think so. They probably recite them at weddings or anniversaries.” I shimmied closer to him. He lifted the book from his lap so that I could rest my head on his stomach. Breathing him in made me even sleepier. “What poem is it that you think reflects us so well?”

“Hmm? Oh, sorry, I was admiring the way your hair curls on your neck. It needs trimmed but don’t be in too much of a hurry. Oh, the poem, right. I nominate this to be our poem, if there is such a thing.” He cleared his throat and his deep voice ran over me like warm water. “i carry your heart with me…” he began then tenderly read the poem.

I had nothing. No words. None. That poem…his reading of it… his warm skin and his damn perfect hair…everything that was Jack Harkness and my feelings for him…

“It makes me feel the same way. Choked-up, delirious, stupidly goofy, and emotionally eviscerated. That’s why I think it should be our poem. These words are true because when you were gone, you had my heart with you. I know that because every damn day my chest was empty. And now that you’re here beside me again, it’s full. Thank you for bringing my heart back, Ianto.”

He wiggled down to take me into his arms, his chin resting on the top of my head.

“I love you,” I murmured, his steady heartbeat and strong arms a cherished resting spot.  

“Don’t ever leave me again. You hear me?”

“I’ll do…” A yawn overtook me. “…best.” I mumbled. “Sleep now…keep me close yes?”

“Always.”

 

**To be continued…**

Acknowledgements to e.e. cummings for everything ever, but in this instance, for his poem “i carry your heart with me”. If you’re not familiar you can read it by following the link below—

<https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/detail/49493>

 

 


	11. The Bridge - Chapter Eleven - Choppy Seas

**The Bridge (Ianto Solo)**

**Chapter Eleven**

**Choppy Seas**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

 

 

I held up two ties. A red one and a subdued aqua one with fine filigree. The red tie seemed a bit garish, so I laid it aside and looped the aqua one under the collar of my white shirt. A morning news program played on Jack’s mobile. That was yet another task to attend to today. A new phone…

“Excuse me, but what the hell are you doing?”

I looked up from knotting my tie at Jack who had pattered into the kitchen right from our bed by the look. He’d at least pulled a pair of trousers up over his ass but his hair was ratted and his face bore wrinkles from the pillowcase. It was a look he wore well.

“I’m finishing getting dressed. Then I need to give the place a quick Hoovering before I give the SUV a cleaning. Then, once that’s done, it’s off to--”

“No. You’re not going anywhere. I’ll take care of all that.” He stood in the doorway, legs spread, arms folded, daring me with a look.

“No, you won’t. I’m not going to lie about this flat like a dead toad. There are things that need my attention.”

“There is nothing that needs your attention other than getting better. Look at how your suit hangs off you. Did you eat this morning?”

I held up a cup of vanilla yogurt I’d washed down with several cups of coffee. “You should have been a nanny instead of the head of Torchwood.”

One eyebrow rose to his hairline. “Be snippy all you want. You’re not to step foot into the Hub until Owen assures me that you’re back up to weight and that every single test that he can or will run shows me that you’re healthy and fit for duty.”

“Jack, please stop. I’m a grown man. I know what I can do. I have things that need to be taken care of, details that need my touch.”

“Make a damn list and I’ll do them.”

I shook my head strongly then lifted my suit jacket from the back of my chair. “You can’t do what I need to do.”

“Oh? I’m pretty sure I can pick up the dry cleaning and stop at the market for a loaf of that damn dark rye bread you have to have. Now haul your ass back to bed and stay there until I--”

“ _No!”_ I shouted. “I need to attend to Edie’s funeral.”

“Ianto…”

“No, she was _my_ friend. I’ll not shirk the responsibility of seeing her properly buried. Now you can just suck it up or you continue to stand there giving me dark looks. But I’m going to do what I need to do today. Now, anything else you’d like to try to shove up my ass?” The comment hung there for a moment as his eyebrow danced up his brow. “Anything other than that?”

“You Welsh are so _damn_ stubborn. Okay, do what you need to do. Will you at least promise me that you’ll eat and hydrate properly while you’re out?” I nodded. “Do _not_ show up at the Hub. I will escort you right out if you do. Run your errands and then come home, rest, and read those.” He jerked his head at the files on the counter. I’d flipped through them while the coffee perked. They were Gwen’s findings about rift disappearances and those who survived them, the untouched-by-Jack version. The pictures were a bit too upsetting to view while trying to eat yogurt. “I’ll be here at three. We’re going to go on a little boat ride.”

“A boat ride?”

“Yes.” He walked over to me, slid a hand around my neck, and gently tugged me to him. There was no stopping my palms from tracing over his sides or slipping down to rest on his ass. “I sounded a bit matronly, didn’t I?”

“Enid says you cluck like a mother hen.” He made a sound of disapproval. “I think it’s touching. I’ll meet you at the marina at three then?”

“I’ll text you the berth. Shit, you don’t have a phone, do you?”

“That’s on my laundry list of things to do today. I’ll call you when I have things set up.” I stole the first kiss of the day. His response was hot and instant.

“Go run your errands before I forget that you’re convalescing and bend you over the sink.”

My balls ached with want. Would Owen give me a doctor’s note if I asked? No. No. Asking him to write up a note that said I was fit to be shagged would mean endless ribbing. Better to just let Jack mellow a bit and take him in hand…so to speak …or literally.

“I’ll be in contact.” He stepped back begrudgingly. I smiled at him then grabbed my keys from the lazy Susan. I was going to also need to get new ID and a gun. Shit. Even my Torchwood badge was back on Edie’s world. As was my earpiece.

“Ianto?” Jack called. I paused in the doorway and glanced back at him. “Please come home.”

“I will. You too.”

“I’m not that easy to get rid of. I’m like gum in your hair. You have to cut me out.”

“I’ll see you at three. Love you.”

“Love you too,” he softly replied. I trotted to the front door. “Be careful. Mind those rift spikes.”

“Yes, mother!” I called back.

“And he used to be such a polite and quiet young man,” I heard him mumbling to himself.

*****

The morning had been horribly depressing. Picking out a resting place always is. Dealing with the same cemetery that my mother had used when my father died had sent me spiraling into unhappy memories that, compiled with the knowledge that I’d be burying the last survivor of a proud and beautiful race, left me utterly dejected. I ended up spending an untold amount of time just sitting in the grass beside the plot I’d just paid for. The alarm on my new cell ringing was the only thing that got me up and moving. I hurried home to rest and read those files still sitting on the kitchen counter. They only added to the overwhelming blue cloud settling on my shoulders.

I texted Jack my new mobile number then ate another bite of the cobb salad I had thrown together. The phone vibrated. I’d need to come up with new ring tones for everyone but for now, the stupid whistle would suffice.

“Tell me that you’re resting, eating, and drinking water.”

I glanced at my coffee. It was made with water so I felt fine replying in the affirmative. I planned to make up for the month – or months depending on which side of the rift one was on – I’d been without my beloved brew.

“I am.”

“Good. Our boat leaves the dock at three from berth twenty-four at the Cardiff Marina. Grab a nap and try not to be late. The captain hates it when people are late.”

“Now would that be the boat captain or you?” I asked and forked up a fat chunk of avocado from my salad. Roquefort dressing covered the wedge. I rushed to get it to my mouth before it dripped onto my trousers or shirt.

“Do I ever talk about myself in the third person?”

“Well…” I chewed and swallowed then washed down my bite with some coffee, “…they say that those who partake in illeism tend to be idiosyncratic and conceited, so of course I cannot see you _ever_ speaking in such a manner, humble and ordinary bloke that you are.”

“Ah, there’s that sarcastic man I fell in love with. See you at berth twenty-four in two hours. And Ianto, coffee is _not_ the same as water.”

He ended the call before I could reply. I hurried to eat and finish my coffee then read the file, or what I could before I had to leave. Jack met me on berth twenty-four at exactly three o’clock. His gaze moved over me.

“I thought you might change.” He nodded at my suit.

“Why would you think that? It’s still working hours.”

“Damned if I know,” he chuckled then motioned me to board the fishing vessel.

The captain looked at his watch, nodded, and got us under motion with haste. Within ten minutes I was soaked through. The ocean was choppy and waves splashed into and over the side of the boat. It was exhilarating to be honest, the wind on my face, the taste of salt water on my lips, the knowledge that a storm was rolling over the area. Jack stood at my side, hands clasped behind his back, coat leaping about. We rode in silence, each mired in their own thoughts.

“This is known as Flat Holm Island,” Jack shouted over the engines when we slowed to approach a rickety dock.

“Is this where they are? The other survivors?”

“Yes.”

The tour of the secret facility that Jack had set up took less than an hour. When it was over I pushed outside, eager to breathe in fresh air to calm my jittery nerves. Jack hung back to speak with the staff, or perhaps he sensed I needed some time to mull things over. He found me about thirty minutes after the tour had ended sitting on the remnants of a stone wall with the lighthouse shading me. The storm had passed as we had been inside and everything was fresh and damp.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Please do,” I answered then shifted over a bit to give him room on the wall. As soon as he sat down beside me the wind blew over us, tugging at my hair while pulling the scent of the man I loved under my nose. “Why am I not like them?”

I glanced over when he didn’t reply. He seemed to be lost in the white caps rolling onto the shore below us.

“I don’t know.”

I looked from his profile to the sea. “Could it be the space slug DNA?”

“Possibly but I have my doubts.”

“Why?” I shifted a bit so that I could see his face as we spoke. “They came through the rift. It makes sense that someone who’s carrying a smidgeon of their DNA would be able to move through it as well.”

He wrinkled his nose then shook his head. “They’re also lower life forms so moving through the rift wouldn’t have the same disastrous effect it does on more evolved life forms like humans.”

“Yes, but advanced aliens come through the rift all the time.” He threw me a look. “We had shape-shifting toads not all that long ago.” I pointed at him and then let my hand fall to the wet stone wall.

“Ianto, they were alien amphibians with no vocal cords or any other signs of elevated thinking or reasoning.”

“They knew enough to shut down the Hub.”

“Only because they somehow assimilated me and in doing so my knowledge. And who knows how long that intelligence would last? No, I don’t think they were even close to having the advanced thinking skills of young, handsome Welshmen with impeccable taste in ties.”

I peeked down at my tie. “It is a nice tie.” I blew out a long breath that billowed my cheeks. “So, why was I able to survive the experience when others don’t? Why didn’t I end up broken and inside-out like the two blokes who came through with me? Why am I sitting here admiring my tie when the people in that facility to our right are barely recognizable as human?”

“I don’t know, Ianto, but I will do _everything_ in my power to find out.”

“Right. More tests for Owen then?” He reached out to lay his hand on top of mine. The gesture warmed me.

“Probably. I might give Martha a call as well.” He searched my face to see if that suggestion bothered.

“That’s fine. I’ve nothing against a beautiful woman giving me a thorough exam.”

“Don’t be enjoying it _too_ much.” He teased then squeezed my fingers. “We have to go now. Are you going to okay?”

“I’ll be good, no worries. Just have to get through another funeral.” The boat captain tooted his horn. We both stood up. “Good thing Torchwood buys caskets in bulk.”

“We’ll see her off right, Ianto. You didn’t involve a funeral home, did you?”

“No, just bought the plot under a fake name. I know how it works, Jack.” I looked him in the eye. “I’ve buried more than my share of bodies since you put me on the payroll.”

“I know you have. I didn’t mean to doubt your ability to be professional.” He appeared to want to say more or do more but he simply gave me a tender look and strolled off. I caught up and walked at his side, right where I would always be.

 

**To be concluded…**

 


	12. The Bridge - Chapter Twelve - A Hymn in the Dark

**The Bridge (Ianto Solo)**

**Chapter Twelve**

**A Hymn in the Dark**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

I’d gone home after the trip to Flat Holm Island to attend to things. Jack returned to the Hub. When night covered Wales, I met Jack and the others at the cemetery. Rhys was also in attendance as we had to borrow a lorry since we had no hearse. He even served as a pallbearer, never saying a word but giving his fiancé quite a few looks. Guess he’d never attended a midnight service for an alien before. He’d get used to it. As would Chadwick, who was also there to lend a hand and some moral support.

It was a clear night, thank God. A tender breeze blew over us as we lowered the plain wooden casket into the waiting hole. Amazing what lots of cash can do for a grieving family whose religious beliefs allow them to only place their loved one in the ground at night. A few thousand pounds works wonders when placed into the right palms.

When the moon peeked out from behind a passing cloud, I glanced at the old skid-steer parked by the gravesite. Our small group stood silently by the grave, until Jack nudged me with his elbow.

“We should get this moving along,” he whispered beside my ear.

“Right after we sing a hymn,” I reminded him. There were certain things one did when burying a friend or loved one. The curtains in my flat were already drawn shut. When we were done here there were pans of crempog, Glamorgan sausages, Cawl, and several loaves of Bara Brith courtesy of Enid and myself, waiting at the Hub.

“Of course,” Jack murmured respectfully. He was edgy to be done and gone. The longer we lingered the more chance of unwanted eyes seeing us. “A fast one please?”

“Yes, of course.” I stepped to the edge of the grave, closed my eyes, and began singing _Gwahoddiad_. My vocal abilities left a bit to be desired but they would have to do. I heard Gwen and Rhys join in. The others stood silently as the hymn flowed over them and the thousands of cold gravestones.

And that was it. I scrambled into the skid steer that had been left out, pushed the dirt back into the hole, and parked the Bobcat back behind the groundskeepers shed, leaving an extra thousand pounds in an envelope under the seat.

“We ready to go?” Jack asked as I flipped the Bobcat’s seat back down.

“Yes, I think so. There’s food for everyone back at the Hub.”

“Are you okay?” He reached out to place a hand on my back.

“Yes, I’ll be fine. I’ve ordered a stone for her as well but that won’t be ready for several weeks,” I told him as we made our way back to the SUV, walking carefully around the graves to ensure we didn’t tread on them. Or at least I was taking care. Jack wasn’t a superstitious man. Hard to say where he was putting his big feet.

“Why don’t you let me pay for that?” He asked as we walked around a small mausoleum that blocked out the moon’s light temporarily.

“No, I’ve got it. Edie wasn’t a member of Torchwood. There’s no reason that the Institute should pay for her internment.”

“She saved your life. That’s reason enough for me.” I gave him a long look when we stepped around the old crypt. “If not for her you would have died. Let me do something for her.”

“Thank you. That’s quite kind.” The need to touch him in some way was strong but snogging among the dead didn’t quite sit right with me. Jack may not be superstitious but I was.

He smiled gently, the moon’s white glow truly did amazing things for the man. “Let’s get back to the Hub. I’m hungry for some of that lamb stew you made.”

And so, we returned to our base, ate, drank beer, and spent the next couple of hours with friends. More friends than I had realized I had. Chadwick and I sat side-by-side for at least an hour as I filled him in on the Hub and everything within it. Then the team began to break off and head home. It _was_ after two and we all did have to be back here at nine. Well, _they_ did. I suspected Jack would indeed escort me out if I showed up here on the morrow. Maybe a few days from now I could wiggle my way back into work…

“Who brought ice cream?” Jack asked as we began tidying up a bit.

“That was Chadwick. Said he likes it on his crempog,” I replied and tossed a stack of dirty paper plates into the trash bag I was toting around.

“Who eats ice cream on pancakes?”

“Chadwick Valentine.”

“Seems a shame to waste it. Why don’t we finish it off in bed?” I glanced up as I reached for an empty Styrofoam cup. Jack stood on the other end of the sofa, holding a tub of Neapolitan ice cream, his expression a muddle of desire and uncertainty. “That is if you think you’re feeling up to having ice cream in bed at three in the morning. If you’re not, then that’s totally understandable and I’ll stop being such a lecherous slob who thinks only of his own need to bed the man he loves because he’s incredibly glad to have him back. Okay, you’re looking at me as if I’ve lost all my marbles which probably means I should stop talking about sex and ice cream as you mourn.”

“Ice cream in bed sounds wonderful, truly.”

“Yeah? Are you sure?”

I nodded.

“Okay, good. Leave that for morning.” He pushed the lid back on the tub of ice cream. I dropped the bag onto the sofa. We left the mess behind.

 Jack gave the closed curtains a look when we entered my flat but said nothing. He was familiar with Welsh customs, or he should be. “Are you positive about this? Please don’t let me rush you.” He stood in the middle of the living room looking a bit lost.

“I’ll grab a couple spoons,” I said. That erased the uncertainty in his blue eyes.

“I’ll meet you in bed.” Off he went to the bedroom while I hurried to grab two spoons. The kitchen was neat as a pin just as I liked it. One would never know that I’d been cooking like a madman all evening. Spoons in hand I stepped into the bedroom to find Jack peeling off his undershirt, his trousers riding low on his hips, his braces dangling freely. His gaze met mine. I could see the fire of desire flare to life in his eyes.

“I have spoons,” I croaked then held said spoons up. Jack gave me a sweet smile.

“That you do.” He held out a hand and I placed the spoons across his palm. “We’ll only need one, Ianto. Tonight, we’re sharing everything.” He tossed one spoon over his shoulder and the other he placed in his mouth then proceeded to divest himself of his trousers and briefs. His cock stood up, thick and hard. I felt my own body react to the sight of him stiff and ready. Once he was nude he dropped onto the bed, ripped the lid off the tub of ice cream, and then stared at me wantonly. “Come here. Let’s get some calories into you.”

“I’m not hungry,” I said as I tugged on my tie, my fingers feeling fat and clumsy.

“You didn’t eat anything at the wake.” I couldn’t get undressed fast enough. I was desperate for his touch. Bouncing around on one foot I struggled to get my sock off. Jack waited patiently, ice cream tub in hand, eyes hotly touching each bit of skin I managed to expose. “I’ll feed you.”

I dropped my trousers to the floor, the pockets still full of my new possessions. Knowing he was staring, I grabbed my cock. Jack moaned as I did.

“Come to bed, Ianto,” he gruffly said. I did as he wished, crawling over the bed until I was seated where he wanted me - back to the headboard, legs straight, hands resting on the pillows, I was his to do with as he wanted. Jack threw a leg over my thighs. His ass was hot and firm as it settled on my lap. His gaze held mine. “You’re going to eat some of this, right?”

“Yes, if you want.”

“That’s what I want.” He dipped into the tub and lifted a dripping spoonful of vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry out of the soft cardboard container. “You happy with me in control?”

“God, yes.”

“I thought you might be.”

I was. I needed to toss aside the reins of control _so_ badly. How did he know what I needed so well? I opened my mouth. He slid the spoon in. I swept the ice cream off the spoon with my tongue and lips. He went back for more. Each spoonful made me feel freer.

“It’s really soft,” he informed me then dribbled droplets of melted ice cream over my chest. I sucked in a sharp breath at the sensation and then groaned long and low when he lowered his mouth to my nipple and lapped the treat off. “This isn’t soft though,” he said then grabbed the hard nub with his teeth. I jerked in pleasure, my hips coming up off the mattress. “That isn’t either,” he chuckled when my erection jabbed him in the belly.

“Ah, Jack,” I managed to say. Things changed then. Less ice cream got into me but lots more found its way all over me. Jack covered me in Neapolitan one glorious spoonful after another glorious spoonful. He dribbled chocolate over my chest, vanilla over my neck, and strawberry over my cock. His tongue lapped and licked, delving deeply into my navel then slipping down around my sticky prick to my balls. The sheets were a mess, Jack was as well, his dark hair was gummy when I shoved my fingers into it to guide his skilled mouth from my hip bone to my cock.

“We should have grabbed the chocolate syrup,” he said before taking me down his throat. I cried out, my fingers knotted in his hair. He sucked hard, bringing me to the edge rapidly. I came far too quickly but it had been so long and he was so perfectly in control. Jack’s eyes fluttered shut as he swallowed all I had. “So much sweeter than ice cream,” he purred while cleaning my cock off with strong sweeps of his tongue. “I’m going to enter you like this, on your back, so I can see your eyes ignite when I push into you.”

He chucked the ice cream and spoon to the floor. I was too hot for him to care about what kind of mess it would make on the carpeting. I gyrated my hips wantonly, my ability to speak gone. Jack slid between my legs, stroking his cock, giving it a long tug and then a hard twist over the head.

“Get the lube, Ianto.”

I pawed around like a blind man, my sight pinned to Jack fisting his dick. When my fingertips skimmed over the lube on the bed stand, a small grunt escaped me. Jack smiled wickedly.

“You’re getting hard again,” he pointed out as if I wasn’t aware. I gave him complete control of me and my body. His fingers were slickery when they probed under my balls. I sucked in a shaky breath when he pressed two fingers into me.

“Ianto Jones, the things you do to me,” he panted and rotated his fingers, making me cry out as he bumped my prostate. “I have to get inside you.” He withdrew his fingers. I grabbed the pillows on either side of me and made a tight fist as he thrust into me. “Oh, God above,” Jack moaned as he slipped deep. My back bowed up off the mattress, inviting him to give me all he had. He settled over me, hooking my legs with his arms, he held me open and began pumping. “Oh… Ianto. This is not going to be slow or gentle. I’m…sorry.”

“Ah.” That was the only sound I could make now. My body and soul was filled with Jack Harkness. He took up every inch of me and I loved it. Loved it _so_ much…

He came far faster than usual. His big body tensing, his cock kicking violently, his head thrown back. He was beautiful and he was mine and I never wanted to ever leave him again. His head lolled forward and our eyes locked.

“I love you,” he whispered breathlessly and then let my left leg slip out of the crook of his arm. Still trembling from his orgasm, he spat into his hand and began working my cock expertly. Feeling his semen leaking out of me mixed with the shudders of his own release pushed me closer and closer as did the tight grip of his fingers around me. “Come for me now, Ianto. Let me see and feel it.”

“Jack, ah dammit!” I blew apart violently, scrabbling and clawing at the bedding and pillows. I bucked upward and tried to keep my eyes on Jack as he watched me. He pressed into me deeper, his cock still hard enough to make me shiver with delight. “Ah, _damn,_ Jack…”

“Mm-hmm.” He released my cock and leaned over me, my leg still hooked in his arm. His cock slipped out as his tongue slid into my mouth. He rolled us to our sides then, my leg finally falling free. I curled into him, eager to seal my mouth back to his.

“Love you,” I mumbled between kisses. He threw an arm around me and pulled me flush to his sticky chest. We had made quite a mess of ourselves and the bedding but right now that was not a worry. Nothing was. I was spent and free for a short while. His love was all I needed. That and the feel of him close to me.

“Close your eyes and rest.” He whispered that beside my ear as he reached for the covers. I made a soft sound of agreement and let my eyes drift shut. I felt him move, enjoyed the soft slide of the sheets and cover moving up our bodies. “And do not ever leave me again.”

“Never will.”

 He sighed deeply. Sleep then rolled over me. I dreamed of a lake of deepest blue. Jack and I were teaching Edie how to fish. She was laughing. It was a good dream. 

 

 

 

 

**The End**

**Next up we’re going to have another “Day in the Life” one-shot. After that we’ll have “Love Thy Neighbor”.**

**Yours in fiction—**

**Feral**


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